


My Poison, My Salvation

by afterandalasia



Category: Aladdin (1992)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Community: disney_kink, Dark, F/M, Love/Hate, Manipulation, Smut, Twisted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-12
Updated: 2011-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-30 18:26:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6435544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterandalasia/pseuds/afterandalasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is all she has, her power and her cage, and she both loves and hates him for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Poison, My Salvation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lai_lai_ramna](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lai_lai_ramna).



> From [the prompt](http://disney-kink.livejournal.com/361.html?thread=1846889#t1846889) at the Disney Kink Meme.

She hates him.  
  
She hates the way that he has such total control over her, that he will order her what to wear and parade her before the princes of other kingdoms. Because he was not a prince, but now he is sultan, and he wears her like a beautiful adornment and forgets that she is the princess, and this is her land, and that she is so much more than a jewel to be worn.  
  
She hates what he does to her kingdom. She is capable of so much more, and she knows it, but Jafar seems to care for nothing but owning Agrabah and does not want to do anything more to it. She wants to educate people, to help people, to do something more than let her kingdom run itself because, for all that she loves her father dearly, his mind was often elsewhere. Now Jafar is not even kindly distracted; he wants the power, for the sake of the power, and nothing more.  
  
She hates the throne room now. It is draped in silk and piled with gold, and people must kneel when they enter, and she sits just at Jafar's left hand side and below him and is supposed to keep her head bowed at all times. She hates watching people prostrate themselves before him, and before her, and beg and cower for something that it would cost him nothing, nothing, to give.  
  


 

She loves him.  
  
She loves it when they argue, because then at least it is clear that he knows how intelligent she is, and even if he hates her for it he will not patronise her then. And they fight often, and fiercely, over anything that she can find to raise an argument over, because then they will storm throughout the rooms and shout and throw things at each other, and his eyes will harden and he will shout back, forgetting that he expects her to grovel before him and knowing that she will not.  
  
She loves it when he falls to her charms, and she can drape herself upon his shoulder and press her breasts against his back, and it will be an easy victory. So simple that he does not realise she has persuaded him to something he would not otherwise have done, a well here, a lessening of the taxes there, pardon of some prisoner or other. They are small victories, but she holds them to her chest, and laughs sometimes that Jafar will not argue with her unless she has begun it, and when she is sly he does not realise.  
  
She loves it when they fuck, because then she remembers that once she was above him, and he was only the vizier and she could have said anything against him. Because he does not dare simply to pleasure himself upon her and leave, because he knows she would never allow it, and so those clever fingers and that cunning mouth fall upon her skin instead, and tease and toy with her until she moans and writhes and comes at his command, and only then will she _allow_ him to finish, and slink off back to his rooms, and he dares not keep a harem whilst she is his Sultana.  
  


 

She hates him.  
  
She hates that he is a sorceror, hates that staff that he carries still, although now she knows what it is capable of. She has fought with him over it before, fiercely, and wrestled it from his grasp and threatened to burn it, and anger and fear and condescension have gleamed together in his eyes and never has he looked so terrifying and so alive, but then he has laughed. And he has told her that it will never burn, will never be lost, and that if she so much as tries to take it from him he will use it upon her instead. And she never knows whether he has, never knows whether he is already in her head and whether this is some figment of her imagination, and sometimes she will scratch her arms to remind herself that he would never want her flawlessness marked, and look in grim pleasure at the blood that beads there.

But she cannot take the staff from him, she knows that she cannot, and thus she must watch as he uses it or know that he has used it, when he laughs about what he has made some guard or nobleman or commoner do against their will.She hates that he keeps her in this golden cage, not even for her protection but because he would possess her, and that all she can do is walk the gardens or watch the stars. And he whispers that he will know if she ever tries to leave the palace walls, and she believes him, or thinks that she believes him, and now Rajah has been taken from her and she has no-one with which to pass those lonely days.  
  


 

She loves him.  
  
She loves the gifts that he showers her with, how could he not? He tells her often how beautiful she is, and has clothes made of silk and velvet and fine linens that fit her like a second skin and flow like water, and he will give her jewellery and comment on how rich and unsurpassed the gold is against her skin. He likes to watch her dress, to breathe in the scent of her hair and her skin with or without the intense, exotic perfumes that he buys her. He revels in her beauty, and tells her of it often, as if he does not want her to forget it. And for all that Jafar does, for all he twists and toys, he does not lie, has never lied, and she can look into the mirror and take a hollow victory in her own unfathomable beauty.  
  
She loves that he takes on all of her, does not expect for one moment for her to lie placid and still beneath his grasp. He knew what he was to marry the moment that he offered his hand for her, with all of the spite and the anger and the adoration that she was capable of, and he has married her anyway. And she thinks of how the other princes bored her, or in their minds framed her into some other woman than she was, and Jafar does not have that pretence. And she knows that for all he hates her fire and her will, he would not change her, because he could have descended upon any Kingdom but no, no, it is her that he has chosen, and she has her own chains wrapped around him in return.  
  


 

She hates him.  
  
She hates that she is trapped and lonely and choiceless, and that he has such power and knows it, and that he will talk as if he is going to offer her some choice, some chance, and then will pluck it for her at the last moment and laugh at her, and she will rage and storm and even if he rages back, it will do nothing. She hates her own impotence, and wonders what it would be to love on equal terms, or even to rule on equal terms the kingdom that is hers by blood and soil and right of birth, and what it would be to have someone or something other than him.  
  


 

And still she loves him.  
  
She loves him with the desperation of the choiceless, knowing that if she does not love him she will have nothing but hate and hopelessness, and she mutes her mind so that she does not understand this, and imagines herself his Sultana and wears her body and her new, pretty, sharp but never cunning mind like a mask, and tells herself that she loves him, and sultana Jasmine can do what Princess Jasmine never did, and this person she has become can hope to do what this person she once was never could.


End file.
